Ivory and Ebony
by Orange Squashed
Summary: When a deranged cult threaten the existence of the worlds population, Aurora Dovecott finds herself in the middle of the battlefield once more. But when she is sent back in time to find a rare artefact, how will she fare against Tom Riddle? (Post Hogwarts Riddle Era i.e Borgin and Burkes) AU! There will be lots of relationship drama and teen angst!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N : I'm hoping that this will be quite a long story with lots of chapters, so i know there are some things that are a little confusing in this chapter but they will get explained! :) Really excited about this. Aurora will be traveling back to the late 1940's and will meet Tom Riddle at Borgin and Burkes. Thats when the main plot will start, so don't worry, our favourite dark wizard is coming into the picture soon enough.**

A Short Epilogue :  
Aurora Dovecott is nineteeen, beautiful and a VERY strange witch, with a VERY VERY strange past. She has recently regained the use of her magical power after nineteen years (oh yeah, did i mention she's been reborn?) and would really like to find out who made it possible. But the world is in crisis, a disturbed cult a threatening to blow up the planet and Aurora has become a useful pawn in the battle for survival.

-o-o-o-o-

"Jerome, for goodness sake will you stop wriggling like that!" The witch glared at her pocket in annoyance, her companion was irritating her greatly.

"Why don't you try being shoved into a smelly pocket for hours on end!?" Jerome hissed, poking his scaly head out of his hiding place and flicking his long black tongue at her.

"I'm sorry, okay?" She sighed, flicking her white blonde hair over her shoulder and tapping her pocket affectionately. "You won't be in there too much longer, I promise." The ivory royal python hissed dramatically and slithered back into the pocket of her black pinafore dress obediently.

"What was that!?" The large, overbearing wizard who was guarding the door boomed at her.

"Parseltounge." The nineteen year old blonde stated simply, scuffing her Doctor Martin boot across the tiled floor of the Ministry of Magic courtroom. The wizard sneered at her.

"Disgusting." He muttered. She wasn't offended. Ever since she first realised she had regained her powers, she had mentally prepared herself for this, among several other possible outcomes.

She had wondered if they would make a scapegoat of her and throw her into Azkaban, or place her on a pedestal for all to look up to in these troubled times. But whilst she was entirely prepared for the way people would treat her now, she could never have been prepared for the Minister of Magic's insane plan.

Two hours earlier, he (Edward Kindlefeather, The Minister of Magic) had filled her in on the issues that had arisen since she was separated from the Wizarding World and she realised that there were even worse people than Voldemort and his Death Eaters. There were a group of people, both muggle and wizards alike, who believed that they had unlocked the power of eternal life. They also believed that the rest of the world's population were unworthy to live because they did not follow their rules. In short, it was a terrifyingly crazy cult.

The cult, who called themselves 'The Forefathers' had been started by two men, one a wizard, the other a muggle. They (apparently) discovered an artefact which offered eternal life; some speculated it could be the Philosophers Stone, or something similar, others guessed it to be a kind of Horcrux. Either way, the pair had begun to sell their secret to people (muggle or not) in return for their loyalty, trust and a measly five million pounds. This was clever though, as the Minister had said, because it meant they were only targeting the rich and the powerful. They had also sold them the secrets of their all-powerful God. The only God that truly existed, and who gave good people wealth and prosperity and bad people poverty and disease. Their God taught 'The Forefathers' that they were special, they were good and pure and they alone deserved to live forever.

And now, years later, they were in a terrifyingly powerful position. Experts had decided that it was highly likely that the two men who began the cult were nothing more than con artists selling their 'elixir of life' to make a quick buck. But now they were either missing, or dead and in their wake they left one thousand followers, who believed that they were immortal.

So, these 'Forefathers' made up of an extremely dangerous mix of the rich and those in positions of power, (People speculated that even the President of the United States could be one of them) had realised that with twenty-first century technology in all of its glory, combined with magic, they could make one hell of an almighty weapon. And who could stop them? They were the most powerful organisation in the world, and the wealthiest.

So, in short, there was a very large group of powerful witches and wizards who believed that the poor should all die and they were planning to very unceremoniously blow them up with a giant magical nuclear bomb.

"Well, fuck." The blonde witch had stated once Kindlefeather had finished his tale. "I missed a lot, didn't I?"

The minister had only given her an indecipherable grunt in response to her rhetorical question. "You understand why you might be a bit of a cause of concern for us, don't you Miss Dovecott?"

"Oh, because I was turned into a Horcrux by Lord Voldermort when I was an infant? Or because I selflessly killed myself to help end the war?"

"Both." He stated clearly.

"Well, I bet Harry Potter isn't getting this kind of treatment." The witch muttered. The Minister raised an eyebrow in warning. "Look, its ok, I understand." She continued, forcing a small smile. "I got a lot of good press for killing myself, it almost made everyone forget I was ever associated with the Death Eaters. I can see why my blatant…." She paused, finding it hard to find the correct word "aliveness, might be a little inconvenient." She shrugged, looking up at Kindlefeather with big blue eyes.

"These are troubled times, Aurora." He sighed, finally starting to loosen up and sat down in one of the many arm chairs in his large office. "You're technically a war criminal." His tone was almost apologetic now.

"I killed people on both sides, I know. But only those who were killing for their own interests or entertainment, I saved innocent lives." There was a large bubble of anger threatening to erupt from her chest.

"We all know that, Aurora. You didn't earn the title 'The Daughter of the Dove' for nothing. But the people are scared, they don't want another war. There will be some who remember your darker days, when the Dark Lord raised you as his equal, and there will be others, whose loved ones you couldn't save, who are still bitter. Either way, once they know you're alive, they'll be angry."

Aurora looked down at the tattoo of a dove on her right wrist, it winked at her. "It's not my fault he made a Horcrux for a Horcrux. I thought I was going to die, isn't it the thought that counts?"

The Minister of Magic laughed. "I'm afraid not."

There was a long moment of silence. The grandfather clock in the corner of the room suddenly became too loud and the seconds ticked by five times more slowly. Aurora wondered for a moment about her existence, something she tried to avoid as it confused even her. When she was just three years old a mysterious stranger had rescued her from Wools Orphanage and taken her home to the white cottage on the cliff. She could still remember the scent of sea water and the harsh blistering wind. She remembered the pain and the screams, she remembered his experiments. The Dark Lord had wanted to create a seventh horcrux, but not just any old inanimate object would do. He wanted flesh and blood, he wanted a human horcrux. Not particularly practical to keep one immortal, but the power, the taboo, the experimentation, all appealed to him greatly. Then, a few weeks later, the Dark Lord lost his powers to Harry Potter, and back to the orphanage she went. When she turned eleven, Professor Dumbledore took his second trip to Wool's and informed her she would be going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But then, in her seventh year, Voldemort rose to power again, reclaiming Aurora as one of his most prized death eaters. She remembered the evening that he gave it to her, the necklace. It was small, a discrete brass locket, the same shape as a two pence peace with a glittering green emerald in the middle. He never told her what it was, that encased within it was a piece of her soul. So, when she, so ceremoniously killed herself at Riddle Manor, she didn't imagine she would be reborn. And that's where the whole story became a mystery. Her body perished but a new one was made, just a second old, an innocent little baby girl. The muggle caretaker found her and took her to Wools. Back where she started. But this time, there were no magical powers and Dumbledore never rescued her. Her new body was a muggle and the only connection she had with her past life were the necklace she had been found wearing and the dreams which haunted her every night.

"So, we might as well cut to the chase Minister. What is it you want?" The white haired witch leaned her tiny frame against the tiled wall behind her, nibbling on her thumb (an old habit) and gazed at the politician with wide eyes. He sat up straighter and cleared his throat, in an attempt to seem less approachable and more intimidating. "You know the saying Miss Dovecott, 'You scratch my back, I scratch yours…"

"And what if i don't want my back scratched? What if I want to go back to my normal life that I've been living for the last nineteen years and keep myself far apart from the wizarding community?" Her life had been just fine before she'd collapsed in the middle of London and woken up to find the bloody necklace glowing like kryptonite. She was doing well at university and had her future career all lined up. But she was back to being a witch and all that didn't matter anymore.

"You don't have that option I'm afraid." He strained his voice to sound stern and authoritative. "My cabinet wants me to act. I could throw you in Azkaban to show that the Ministry is capable, or I can rejuvenate your reputation and clear your name."

Aurora thought for a moment before answering, the thumb she wasn't chewing gently stroking Jerome's head. "Alright, what's the price?"

Kindlefeather smiled briefly. "The Hogwarts Founder's Shield."

The witch rolled her big blue eyes, why did the entire world's problems fizzle down to ancient artefacts?

"And where is the 'Hogwarts Founder's Shield?" She asked mockingly.

"It was destroyed in 1952 by Grindelwald and his men." He said gravely.

"Well." she started. "Isn't that handy?" The nineteen year old smiled sarcastically.

"So you will have to go back there to get it."

Aurora laughed, surely this old coot couldn't be serious! Time travel that far back was impossible.

"This is no joke Dovecott!" He shouted, suddenly angry. "As Minister of magic I have made the decision that no muggle will find out what is happening until it is absolutely essential. That shield is the only source of magical power that could equal the bomb."

'Well that answers it then.' Aurora thought, 'He's lost his fucking marbles.'. She decided to humour him. "Why? What does it do?" She asked.

"It's like a sponge for magic, it absorbs power and catalyses it." He was quieter now, clearly embarrassed. "We will announce the plan to the cabinet, have a very ambiguous story written up in the Daily Prophet, and then you will go."

She thought she might humour him some more and ask him how exactly she would be travelling.

"Time sand; the kind found in time turners. It works much like floo power. The use of it, of course is highly illegal and dangerous, but" he paused, much quieter now, "under the circumstances."

Aurora's heart beat started to pick up. He really meant it. This was his plan and either she went along with it, or she would be thrown into Azkaban. She glanced over at the door, a large, burly wizard stood in front of it, blocking her only exit. She was trapped.

"Now then." He spoke again, "I will go at fetch Miss Claddenbowl, she will be interviewing you for the story and writing up these events. She will be here in a few moments, do make yourself comfortable." And then he left, his tartan cape flouring behind him.

And that's when Jerome had started wriggling.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N I really had to improvise with Borgin and Burke's characters. There not really that much known about them, so i'm sorry if I've really messed up the canon but this is AU so oh well... :")**

Aurora gently soothed the friend in her pocket so that he knew she was sorry. This was never meant to be a long visit. Jerome's long tongue tickled her finger tips and the young witch smiled. She had been standing in the Minister of Magic's office for a long time, silently staring at the disgusting coloured wallpaper and trying to follow its tangled patterns. She began to contemplate whether or not she should engage in conversation with the wizard guarding the door but just before she could open her mouth there was a sharp knock and door burst open.

An older witch, wearing horn rimmed spectacles strolled in, beaming. She

wore an eccentric bright yellow dress and lime green cloak. Her brassy blonde hair was scraped back in such a tight pony tail; Aurora thought she could see the hairs on her scalp breaking. Her wide toothy grin and narrow grey eyes stared back at Aurora excitedly. "Now then, you must be the famous Miss Dovecott!" The witch had such a high voice; Aurora wondered whether she found herself popular among the local dogs. "I am Pamela Pickleberry, writer for that daily prophet." She held out a thin, bony hand. Her nails were painted the same lime green as her cloak. Aurora took it begrudgingly and Pickleberry thrust them both into two of the Minister's armchairs.

"Now then sweetie," The way the journalist said the word 'sweetie' literally made Aurora's skin crawl; the older witch clearly assumed she was a child. "I'm going to ask you a few questions and I need you to answer as best you can, okay?" Pickleberry grinned at her again and waited for a response. Aurora simply nodded. The journalist realised this was going to be much harder than she had originally thought. "Alright then." The older witch started, taking out her Quick-Quotes Quill. "So, what's it like being back in the Wizarding World? I'm sure you're very excited!"

Aurora thought for some time about how to respond. She knew what the Daily Prophet were like, if she didn't give Pickleberry some answers worth writing about, she would make up her own interpretation. Deciding she would rather not be painted at the doe-eyed little girl the Ministry wanted her to appear, she answered. "I'm quite agnostic about it, I have been without the wizarding world for such a long time, you see?"

The older witch rolled her eyes, "Hmm, and what about this TOP SECRET mission the Minister of Magic has appointed you, that must be such an honour! Do you know why he chose you specifically?"

'Yes,' Aurora thought 'Because I'm a PR issue.' The fair haired nineteen year old wondered for a moment whether or not she should give that answer but decided she's rather this interview would end sooner rather than later. "I think it has something to do with my position during the Second Wizarding War. I'm quite honoured I suppose." This was a lie, she was not honoured to be subject to blackmail and almost certain death, but she resolved that Ms Pickleberry would write that she was anyway, so she might as well say it.

The questions continued: "To which Witch or Wizard do you look up to the most", "Do you regret the position you took in the War effort?", "What are your opinions about the current crisis regarding The Forefathers?" Aurora answered these with minimal effort, finally deciding she did not care what this old croon wrote about her in the blasted paper; she wouldn't read it, and no one she cared about would read it either.

The interview finished about two hours after it had started when the Minister returned and informed Aurora that she would be staying at the Leaky Cauldron that night (the guard wizard would be coming with her), in order to return to the Ministry for nine o'clock in the morning for a press conference and public address before she began her 'mission' at ten o'clock sharp. Kindlefeather also informed her to make a list of everything she would need both for tonight and the time in the nineteen forties and to give it to the guard wizard (who she had decided to call, Mr Chuckles on account of his hard stare and unblinking eyes) when she had finished so that he may give it to the Minister's PA.

Aurora sighed; she had been in this damn office for six hours now. Jerome was as restless as she was irritable, Mr Chuckles was still watching her intently and she felt like the walls were staring to close in around her. She looked down at the list in her hands:

1) Five hundred galleons (for emergencies and living costs)

2) Nineteen forties attire; two formal dressed, seven day time dresses, three skirts, three blouses, high heels, low heels, underwear, nightwear, etc.

3) Potions: Felix Felicis, Essence of Ditany, Essence of Murtlap, Polyjuice Potion, one pack of Bezoars, and a strong sleeping draft

4) All the information available on The Founder's Shield:

She stared at it blankly for a few moments. She didn't know why she was bothering; she was going to die tomorrow. There was no possible way she could successfully go back in time that far and survive it. But then, she should be trying to escape, not making this pointless list. But then what if it did work? The theory didn't seem too flawed and it would be one hell of an adventure. The fair haired witch mused that her hunger for adventure would always be her downfall. 'Ok,' she thought to herself. 'If I'm doing this I'll need a plan.' She gazed around the room, as if the answer was somewhere in the disgusting wallpaper. But then she saw it, on the Ministers desk. The Hand of Glory. Aurora had seen it before at Malfoy Manor. It had always creeped her out, the way the dead hand twisted and twitched as though it was still somehow alive. But it was where it came from that gave her an idea.

5) All the information on Borgin and Burk's that is available. I need: all the information on employees, and information on every artefact on the shelves in September 1946. THIS IS IMPORTANT.

6) Books on ancient artefacts, Egypt, Runes, The Hogwarts founders and copies of the Daily Prophet from July 1946- September 1946.

She looked back at the list, feeling more satisfied with her progress. "Anything you need Jerome?" She whispered at her pocket, Jerome's small head popped out and flicked it's black tongue.

"Hmmm, a handsome boy snake to curl up with at night?" Jerome hissed, Aurora giggled. Jerome was her best friend; he was also the only homosexual snake she had ever met. This was probably due to there not being very many.

"I'm not sure that's going to be possible I'm afraid Jerr'" the royal python unceremoniously plopped his white head back inside his hiding place and grumbled something Aurora did not hear.

7) A bottomless box of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans.

She smiled at her finished work. Most of the things on there weren't very important, the clothes especially as she could transfigure those quite easily. She handed the completed list to Mr Chuckles who grunted before leaving the room for the whole of ten seconds to give it to the PA. Aurora wouldn't have had time to escape if she tried.

Her room at the Leaky Cauldron was bland and cold. She lit a fire quickly after arriving and had begun to run a bath. Jerome was extremely happy to be free of Aurora's pocket and had slithered out almost the second they had entered her room. The young witch had a few jelly beans left in her handbag and transfigured one into a mouse (the only version of the spell she had ever managed to do with ease). Jerome caught the small helpless creature all too quickly and had spent just ten minutes eating it whole. Aurora couldn't look, the action always unsettled her and she had left Jerome to his meal.

The young witch entered the steam filled ensuite bathroom and began to strip.

Taking off her black pinafore dress, white t-shirt, Doctor Martin boots, white socks and the rest of her underwear, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was slim; her collar bones clearly defined and poking out from her skin. He stomach was flat and defined as she had always enjoyed exercise and her legs were shapely and long. Her small fingers traced the outside of the tattoo on her left side, a cluster of beautiful pink and yellow flowers which swayed as though a summer breeze were dusting over them. Then there was the long, unbecoming scar on her right arm. Although her dove tattoo covered a little of the blemish, it was still painfully clear against her otherwise perfect white skin. She remembered how she had taken her dagger to her forearm and attempted to gouge the Dark Mark tattoo from her skin. How it had bled and burned. But when it had healed, the mark was replaced with a large and ugly scar.

It was memories like these, from her past life which gave her comfort. They were old memories but they were new to her. Clearer than her dreams and nightmares, they were the truths. Evidence that she wasn't crazy and that the ugly mark on her arm was not any old birth mark. When she had regained her powers, she had also regained these memories and despite the horror of her past, she was glad that she finally had the answers she had always searched for.

Now the scar was partially covered by her dove tattoo, which reminded her of the importance of her sacrifice and the peace that had come after her death. She sighed, realising that yet again, the world was not at peace, and yet again, it asked too much help from her.

She turned around to the sink and ran some hot water into the basin. "Jerome, I've run you a bath too." She called into the bedroom. The two foot long royal python, slithered into the bathroom through the door which Aurora help open for him. The witch closed it behind her friend and give him a lift up to the warm water she had run from him. "Ergh!" She crinkled her nose and shook her head "You've got blood all over your face you gross creature!" He laughed at her, a sort of breathy chuckle and emerged himself in the water.

Aurora scrapped her long, white blond hair into a messy bun and climbed into the bath tub; the hot water relaxing her muscles. She could feel the tension dissolving from her knotted shoulders. "How much of today's events did you hear Jerome?" She asked, peering over at her companion who was resting his scaly head lazily on the rim of the basin, looking at her with his large black eyes.

"Only enough to know that today wasn't a good day." He sighed, clearly enjoying the feeling of the warm water.

"It's bad, Jerome. We need to talk about it." The fair haired witch splashed her face with water and sank deeper into the bath. "Look, you know you're not my pet. You know you can leave anytime you like, you don't have to come with me." The snake raised his head briefly and nodded. "Well, the mission the Minister is forcing me to do, it's practically suicide and the alternative is a life time stay in Azkaban."

Aurora stayed quiet for a moment, letting the words sink in. She'd said it out loud and now it all seemed so real. "He's sending me seventy years back in time to get some old shield. He thinks it could save the world, but it's most likely just a way to get rid of me." She gazed at the snake for a moment.

"You're right." He said, "It is suicide." Aurora expected her friend to slither out of the sink, out of the bathroom, out of the hotel room and never look back. He stayed. "Why aren't you trying to escape?"

"I thought about it" Aurora started. "But, then I realised, there's no going home. They'd find me. Then what do I do? Live on the run? Constantly looking over my shoulder? They'd throw me in Azkaban without as much as a hearing. I don't want to live like that, would you?"

"Better to live like that than not live at all." Jerome muttered.

"Besides." The witch sat up a little, gazing at her friend with wide blue eyes. "It might not kill me."

There was a long silence. After a while, Aurora clambered out of the bath and let the water go. She wrapped a large towel around herself and got a smaller hand town for Jerome, gently lifting him out of the water and wrapping him in it. They left the bathroom and the young witch placed the snake on her bedside table and pat him dry. Aware that he would feel the cold, she wrapped him back up in a soft, fluffy pink blanket (his favourite one which she always kept in her hand bag for him) and placed him by the fire to get warm. She slowly dried herself and tugged on a pair of soft pyjama bottoms she had transfigured for herself and then an oversized grey sweater. Finally Jerome broke the silence.

"I'll come with you." He said, quite matter- of- factly. Aurora couldn't hide her shock, or her large toothy smile. But before she could thank her friend or ask him why, there was a knock on the door. She went over and cautiously opened it. It was Mr Chuckles. Without so much as a 'Hello' the burly wizard held out a large leather trunk. She took it, muttering a 'thank you' and noticing his gaze attached to the snake bundled up in a bright pink blanket.

"Strange Witch" Mr Chuckles murmured before turning away and sitting heavily down on a small wooden chair (which looked like it might crack under his enormous weight) just opposite Aurora's room.

"Will you be out here guarding me all night?" She asked, mostly out of curiosity and a little pity, considering she had already decided she would not try to escape. The wizard grunted what seemed to be a 'yes.'

The young witch thought for a moment about what she should do. She eventually decided to take out her wand and transfigure a small table next to his chair and on it a nice, hot cup of tea and two chocolate hobnobs. The wizard looked extremely surprised and, not expecting a 'Thank You', Aurora smiled and closed the door.

"So you'll come?" The witch turned her attentions back to Jerome and then the trunk. She took the heavy luggage over to the bed and started rummaging through its contents.

"Yeah, I think I'd die of boredom without you. Besides, I've hit on every male snake in this century, so maybe I should try the last one." Aurora let out a snort of laughter. The trunk seemed to contain everything she had on her list, which surprised her. Things like the Felix Felisis and five hundred galleons, she just put on to see whether or not she would get them. As it turns out, clearly the Minister actually believed his plan would work, as she doubted, if he was just trying to off her, he would allow five hundred galleons to burn up in the time vortex. Aurora wished she'd asked for more.

Scooping up the file on Borgin and Burke's, the petite witch clambered into bed. Without using her wand she levitated Jerome and his blanket to her side, and then her white iPhone 6 from her handbag. She set an alarm for 8:00am and cast a charging spell she'd created so that the phone read one hundred percent battery. Then she turned her attention to the file.

'Employees:

Arkus Borgin, Founder and Manager. Mr Brogin would mainly handle the customer service and pricing of goods. He was not very academically clever and took a backseat role in the running of the shop, however he showed a great interest in the dark arts. Borgin died in 1992, during the war.

Caractacus Burke, Founder and manager. Mr Burke takes a leading role in the affairs of the shop. He is known for taking advantage of people and driving hard bargains. He achieve outstanding in eight N.E. including defence against the dark arts and is extremely proud of his pure blood heritage. He went missing in 1947, leaving Borgin to run the shop.'

Then Aurora stopped dead. Staring at the next name on the list. 'Tom Riddle.'

"Well, fuck." She muttered out loud, arousing the interest of her serpent friend.

"What?" He muttered sleepily. Jerome slithered out of his blanket bundle and peered at the file she was reading, she laughed at him a little, it's not like he could read it after all.

"Unfortunately for us, the darkest wizard of all time seems to have spent a little time in retail." Aurora grimaced at the bizarre fact. Jerome snorted.

"Why?" He hissed in a twisted delight. "Was he saving up for a nose job?" Aurora giggled eyes scanning over the Dark Lords profile.

"Apparently not." She stated as she read the description 'charming and good looks'. "Well I suppose he didn't always look like that did he? Must have been normal once." She continued reading. "Oh, never mind, he killed his own father and grandparents when he was sixteen. Oh and he opened The Chamber of Secrets when he was in school. Yeah, he was never normal." She read on, becoming more and more interested in Lord Voldemorts past. She hadn't considered he'd had a life before he'd stolen hers. "Talented?" She scoffed. "I would hardly call manipulating people to part from their dodgy dark

artefacts a 'talent'." She thought about everything she knew about Voldemort.

He was very clever and powerful, good at legilimency, that could be troublesome and he was indeed manipulative. But luckily for Aurora, she was every bit as powerful and manipulative. She shared many traits with the Dark Lord, parceltongue being one of them. She wasn't too worried about facing him in a duel, but to be spending every working day with him? That thought was unsettling.

"What would he be doing wasting his time working in a little shop?" Jerome asked, making his way back to his make-shift bed.

"Well I have a pretty good idea. His other horcruxes were all valuable artefacts; it's probably where he found them." Aurora frowned. She would already be competing against Grindelwald to get the shield; she didn't need

this Tom Riddle kid fighting for it as well.

"I need a cigarette." The young witch said out loud to no one in particular. She doubted Mr Chuckles would be too happy about her taking a little trip outside.

"Well, at least people smoke inside in the nineteen forties, right?"

The young witch blew out the candle on her side table and laid down, ready for a completely sleepless night.


	3. Chapter 3

chapter 3

"Where the fuck is my fucking shoe?" The blonde witch half screamed to her serpent companion who was busying himself by making sure that everything that they would be taking with them on their adventure was accounted for in their trunk.

"Under the bed." He hissed absently whilst he made sure there were a sufficient number of jelly beans in the metallic tin resting itself on the leather trunk. Aurora snapped up her black leather doctor martin boot from underneath the bed and shoved it on her right foot. The witch was always irritable after a poor nights sleep.

Snatching up the closed trunk and allowing Jerome to curl up inside her cardigan pocket, she made for the door of her bedroom in the Leaky Cauldron to find an unsurprisingly grumpy looking Mr Chuckles talking animatedly with the Minister of Magic in the corridor.

"Ah, Aurora." The minister smiled at her, noticing her presence in the doorway, but his face dropped when he noticed her attire. "For goodness sake dear, what are you wearing? You can't prance around in the 1940's dressed like that, you are meant to be blending in!" The middle-aged man tutted loudly and wagged his long index finger. "Back in there and change into something more suitable, young lady, and quick to it now, we're running four minutes behind schedule as it is!" Aurora wondered for a moment whether she should curse the older man into oblivion for talking to her as though she were a child. However, she realised that despite this being the way she would have responded in her previous life, she no longer had the protection of the Dark Lord and should probably stop acting like she was cut above everyone else. She turned around with only a slight roll of the eyes and opened the trunk on her bed. Finding a pleasantly embroidered periwinkle dress, coming just below her knees, she decided on this, a pair of nude stockings and leather pumps. Glancing at Jerome in her pocket, she reasoned that the white wool cardigan could stay and changed into her new outfit at a leisurely pace.

After several encouraging knocks on her door from the Minister, she hurried back into the corridor, trunk in hand. He looked her up and down, nodding approval before rudely poking his wand at her hair and with a swish, transfigured it into sleek voluptuous curls, befitting the time period she would be travelling to. This really made Aurora's blood boil, shocked at Kindlefeather's impertinence, she fought tooth and nail to refrain from hexing him.

If he had noticed the teenagers contempt for his actions, he did not show it and the trio; Aurora, the Minster of Magic and Mr Chuckles all made their way to back to the Ministry. It was when they arrived that Aurora's stomach tightened into an uncomfortable knot and her skin began to tingle irritably with a new found anxiety and anger.

Hundreds of witches and wizards flooded the entrance hall. Some had cameras, other quills and parchment. There must have been at least two hundred different reporters. Then there were the protesters, there were at least another hundred people holding up signs and banners. One, which Aurora read whilst trying to fight the urge to vomit, read 'time travel belongs in science fiction!" another read, "Kill the Dove." and another, "Voldemort's Daughter Will Pay." Aurora looked around, the reporters fired questions at her but she didn't hear a single one. She read more signs, "We banned old Magik for a reason!", "Fight the Forefathers, not among ourselves." Then listened to the chants, "Voldemort's daughter will pay! Voldemort's daughter will pay!"

"Miss Dovecotte, how do you feel to be given such a prestigious honour?" The reporter had grabbed her by the shoulders and shouted the question in her ear. She could smell his rancid breath and pungent body odour. Unfortunately, she could not ignore him as easily as she had the others. Luckily, the Minister of Magic continued to push her through the sea of people and informed her not to answer any questions.

It took well over fifteen minuted to complete the short walk from the entrance to the podium which had been set up for the conference. People pointed at Arora, shouted abuse about her being a dark witch whilst other voices argued. People stared at her with adoration or contempt, not a soul seemed to be indifferent to her.

"Personally, I think the quicker we get out of this decade, the better!" Jerome hissed from her cardigan pocket. The young witch laughed and whispered back

"I think I have to agree." Unfortunately, she had not been quiet enough and a nearby reporter screamed at the top of his lungs "She speaks Parcel mouth! I just heard her with my own ears!" A chorus of 'boos', shouts, screams and sounds of disgust echoed from anyone in the immediate vicinity. Aurora tried to shrug it off, reasoning that if she had ears as big as the reporters, she would struggle not to hear things she shouldn't too, however she would attempt to trim the vast amount of hair that seems to grow from them. She began to giggle, realising that there seemed to be more hair growing out of this wizards overly sized ears than on top of his head, and wondered if it would be possible to make some sort of topee from the white fluff.

"Stop laughing, this is a serious affair." The Minister snapped her as the approached the steps to the podium, she followed the man sluggishly and stood awkwardly at the back of the small stage which had been created around where the Ministry reception would usually be. She let her eyes scan over the audience for a moment but each pair of eyes felt as though they were piercing her skin and she decided to spend as long as she could staring at the wooden floor of the makeshift stage, counting the number of notches in the wood.

The Minister began his speech and spoke for a long time about how the first and second wizarding wars had had a terrible effect on our world but that no one but Lord Voldemort himself was to blame. Aurora counted seventy-three notches. Then the Minister went on to explain what astronomical affects the Forefathers could have on not only our society but that of muggles. Aurora counted one-hundred and fifty-one notches. Then the Minister began to talk about his plan and the science behind the time travel Aurora was about to attempt. Aurora stopped counting notches.

"This incredibly important mission is conducted with the sole purpose of collecting a very important artefact from the past, which has already been destroyed in our time. This artefact has the ability to channel magical power and we believe it is the key to combining twenty-first century muggle science with magic to create something far more powerful that the forefathers ever could. By committing the act of time travel, a paradox will be created and with it, a new timeline. Nothing in this timeline will change, however, Aurora here will be able to retrieve the artefact from the paradox time line and bring it here. I cannot stress enough that nothing in this time line will change. It will be as though Aurora is collecting the artefact from a parallel dimension, an entirely different world from our own."

Aurora wondered for a few moments about what her moral positioning was here. She would meet real life people in the past but they would be from a different reality to her own, so did she care if they died? Or if they got hurt? She reasoned that she probably did. She wondered if taking the necklace would change a lot in their time line and if she could be responsible for that change. She concluded she couldn't allow herself to think about it too much. Emotional connections like that were generally sources of weakness and might stop her from achieving what she needed to achieve.

Whilst she had spent time thinking about this, there had been various questions from the audience. One asked if the mission was safe. The Minister said it was safe. Aurora and, quite possibly much of the audience, knew this was a lie. The second question asked if Aurora wanted to go on the mission. The Minister said she did. Aurora wondered how many people knew that was a lie. But considering the cheers and applause this response raised, Aurora reason that very few people did and she began counting the notches in the wood again.

A witch took to the microphone once the Minister had finished, she spoke for a while about what kinds of things the forefathers were doing to Muggles. Aurora counted two hundred notches. Then she talked about the kinds of things that the Forefathers were doing to wizards. Aurora counted two hundred and eighty-two notches. Then the witch read a muggle poem about war and peace. Aurora ran out of notches to count and began praying for death. Her legs ached, so did her neck from staring down at her feet for so long and furthermore the blood was really starting to rush to her head. She looked up. The crowd seemed far too interested in what the witch had to say.

Finally, the witch finished speaking and got a polite applause from the audience. But to Aurora's extreme annoyance her presence was quickly replaced on the stage by a group of Hogwarts Students who formed a choir and began an extremely loud and not so in tune rendition of 'A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love' by Celestine Warbeck. Which proved to be vastly inappropriate both for the occasion and the age of the children singing it. Having said this, Aurora did have a giggle when the small, first-year boy in the front row tripped over his own robes and came extremely close to falling face first off the stage. The entire performance was carnage and embarrassing for anyone involved. But Aurora would happily have sat through it again, rather than have to listen to what followed.

The head girl of Hogwarts, a stumpy and altogether quite ugly girl from Ravenclaw remained on stage after her classmates had left in order to read out an acrostic poem which she had written herself entitled 'War and Peace.'

"W is for world, the world is burning. A is for axes, on the world is turning. R is for rage, that i feel towards war." Aurora fought back tears as she tried to contain her laughter but they burnt her eyes and she knew that anyone standing in the front row would think she had been brought to tears by the poem. "A is for always being strong, N is for not being able to go on. D is for death of which there is some." Now the blonde witch's stomach had started hurting from tensing trying to compose herself. She thought she might actually explode before the Ravenclaw finished the word 'peace'. "P is for patience that this war will end, E is for everyone who is your friend. A is for actually believing things will get better. C is for counting the days till you get your next letter. E is for end."

Auroras shoulders were actually shaking now, giving anyone watching the impression that she was sobbing. She couldn't physically hold it in anymore and clapped along with the rest of the audience hoping that the Ravenclaw would swiftly leave the stage.

The Minister of magic stood up again, and Aurora hoped that this was a sign that there would be no more poxy poems or speakers and she could just jump into the bloody fireplace already so that she could either die or travel back in time, at this point she really didn't care which.

"And without further ado…" The Minister finally spoke, motioning at Aurora who looked up at the audience and smiled and waved, still trying not to laugh at the whole presentation. "Aurora will start her mission, let me introduce the Grimmauld Place Silver and Brass Band who will be playing her out." The witch had to force herself not to roll her eyes. The Grimmauld Place brass Band, named after the Order of the Pheonix headquarters during the second wizarding war and had become the soundtrack to every ministry event in the last twenty years.

A group of about twenty wizards in their seventies filed on stage carrying a wide array of horns and other instruments all of the different and ridiculous sizes. Finally after bout ten minutes they began to play a song that Aurora didn't recognise, but it sounded very patriotic whatever it was.

As the music played, the crowd became silent. Kindlefeather held out a bag of what looked like dirt, but Aurora hoped was time sand. She cautiously made her way toward him and took a large handful, looking nervously into his eyes as if attempting one last plea that he might reconsider and let her go back to her old life. He only looked at her more sternly and smiled almost maliciously as he motioned towards the fireplace which was just next to the stage. A fire more bright that any floo network burned in its mouth; a dark, piercing orange which injected a sharp piercing of fear into Aurora's stomach.

Slowly she approached the flames. Gazing around her shoulder, she saw a thousand smouldering eyes staring back at her. She knew half of her audience wanted her to burn up and die in the flames. She felt their anger and disdain. She could hear their bitter, bitter thoughts. The other half of the audience looked at her with pity, but not a single soul spoke up or acted for her, they allowed her to approach the flames.

Aurora looked down at Jerome and smiled nervously. "Well, no one mourns the wicked." She whispered. The snake popped his head over her pocket and stared at the flames. After a moment he looked up at her, then the crowd behind them, realising, along with his witch companion, that the pair no longer had any hope of escape and were staring at their fate.

"Shall we?" He hissed and gave Aurora a wink. They both knew that no matter how much they winked or smiled, they couldn't conceal their fear. giving one more look back at the only other exit, Aurora sighed. She really could be about to face death for the second time. The witch always knew she wasn't invincible and the next time she came eye to eye with the cloaked figure of death she would not be so lucky.

"We shall" She whispered and stepped into the flame. "One O'clock in the Afternoon , August Thirty-First Nineteen forty-six, Diagon Alley."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Passers-by would have looked into the window of Flourish and Blotts that afternoon and seen a bizarre sight. A nineteen-year-old blond witch, covered in soot and dust, held up a large white royal python and cried whilst appearing to speak to the creature in a strange made up language. The pair were quickly asked to leave the establishment and the girl made her way down Diagon Alley grinning.

Aurora didn't bother to use her wand to cast the spell needed to clean the grime off of both her and Jerome. Finally, she could use her powers without fear that she would be seen using both wandless and non-verbal magic. She had reasoned that she should conceal the full extent of her powers in her own time because people were already scared of her.

"We made it Jerome. I can't believe we fucking made it!" Aurora giggled as she sat down at an outside table of a coffee shop next to Ollivanders. The sun beat warm on her back and she slipped off the cardigan containing Jerome, placing it in a bunch on the table so that Jerome could nestle in it unseen by passers-by. A nice looking plump witch came over and asked if she could take her order, and she asked for a nice cup of tea and two scoops of strawberry ice-cream thanking the witch. When the waitress had disappeared out of view, Aurora summoned her purse from inside her trunk and fished out three sickles and a knut to pay for the tea and ice cream.

"Good riddance to that time, that's what I say." Jerome slithered into a comfortable position on in the bungled cardigan. Aurora frowned.

"Hey, I still have parents to get back too, and my two brothers." she sighed. "And uni. I'll go back to that old life as soon as I'm done here."

"Bloody muggle" Jerome hissed. Aurora stuck her tongue out and smiled at her friend. The waitress came back with her tea and ice-cream and placed it on the table infant of her smiling. Then the plump witch screamed at the top of her lungs when she saw the snake curled up in the young girls cardigan.

Aurora quickly covered the snake with her hands and apologised to the witch. "I'm so sorry he scared you, ma'am! He's very tame I promise you, wouldn't hurt a fly." The older witch caught her breath and smiled slightly. "That's quite alright dear. Just gave me a fright is all." Healing dramatically, she conspicuously looked over both shoulders before continuing. "But you'll do well to do a better job of hiding him. Not so many others would be understanding of a creature like that. T'is the symbol of dark magic you know."

Aurora smiled politely and placed a reassuring hand on the witches shoulder. "It's an unfortunate myth, that one. I'm about as dark and this strawberry ice cream." And both she and the waitress laughed wholeheartedly as she walked away. When she had gone, Aurora silently wondered to herself whether or not she had lied. Was she not a dark witch? She did speak parcel mouth and had used her fair share of dark spells in her past life. But not this one, she reasoned. In the last week that she had gotten her powers back, she hadn't used any dark magic. So perhaps she was as good as strawberry ice cream. She smiled and hoped that would last a bit longer.

"So what now?" Jerome asked, snapping the young witch out of her thoughts. She spooned a large mouthful of strawberry ice-cream into her mouth and smiled feeling far more content that someone who had been thrust seventy years into the past really should.

"We'll head to the Leaky, grab a room for the night. I'll do a a little research on Borgin and Burkes and head there first thing in the morning." She smiled, casually dismissing thoughts of the fact that tomorrow morning she would come face to face with the man who was to become Lord Voldemort.

"And what happens if you don't get a job there?" The serpent asked seriously. Aurora thought about that for a moment. She hadn't considered a plan B.

"I guess we'll have to find the necklace another way" She shrugged, not wanting to diminish her spontaneously good mood. She took a sip of her tea and felt herself relax. She watched the medley of witches and wizards walk past. The first thing she noticed about witches and wizards of the time period was that muggle attire was far more scarce than in that of her own time, or even the nineties. In fact, what the witches and wizards before her were wearing was just downright bizarre.

It was understandable that in a far more prejudice, post-war time period, anything related to the muggle world would be around upon by the upper classes. But what confused Aurora was why it seemed appropriate to instead wear similar attire to that of muggles in the eighteen hundred. Witches wore dresses with corsets and laced boots. Some wore hooded cloaks, of all different colours. The men wore waistcoats and shirts with pocket watches. Some wore top hats, others wore long trench coats despite the summers day. It seemed that the fashion among wizards in this time period was to look as old-fashioned as possible. Aurora sighed, she had very little to wear in her trunk that would coincide with this. She half found herself worrying that she'd come to the wrong time period entirely, but after she'd started to flick through the copy of The Daily Prophet she saw that the date was exactly what it should be.

The headline on the front cover read 'GRINDLEWALD CONTINUES TO CAUSE HAVOC IN EUROPE' and the article outlined the trouble that he had caused. There were many similarities between this account of events and the many that she had read in her own time about Voldermort. Witches and Wizards were disappearing all over the place and more and more Ministry Officials were being identified as corrupt. She skimmed the first page and looked through the rest of the paper. There wasn't much of note, but she decided to slip the copy into her trunk for reading later.

After finishing her ice-cream and tea, Aurora scooped up her things and headed toward the Leaky Cauldron. She was greeted by a young man who went by the name of James, and showed up to her room. She noticed that the room which in her own time would have been tattered, with flaking paint and creaky, splintering floorboards, was now, in this time, freshly painted and airy. The window was open, to welcome in a pleasant summer breeze and the bedding looked new, white and crisp.

"Home, sweet home" she laughed to herself before plonking her trunk onto the bed with a thump before flicking up the latch and starting to unpack.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-…-..-.-.

the next day sh awoke with a strange feeling of elated motivation. Surprisingly, all things considered, she had slept well and now, found herself in an unnaturally good mood. Sun shone through the translucent, white mesh curtains and the almost too warm heat of the room was released by the slight summer breeze sweeping in through the partially open window. Aurora laid there for a moment, feeling extremely comfortable and thought to herself that despite everything, she was so incredibly grateful to be alive and healthy. Out of habit, she reached over to the bedside table to check the time on her phone. 8:02am. Happy she hadn't overslept, she took a high of relief. When her eye caught the 'NO SERVICE' message on the top left corner of the phone screen her stomach knotted slightly with the idea that she was entirely cut off from the rest of the world that she once knew.  
She shoved those unwelcome thoughts to the back of her mind, nothing would stand in her way today. She was here on a mission and she would succeed; prove that old wretch Kindlefeather wrong and arrive back in her own time ready for him to begrudgingly award her status as a free witch.

Energised once more, she put on some music on her phone, cast a silencing charm on the walls of the hotel room and turned up the volume. Jerome slithered unhappily out from his blanket and hissed loudly above the loud 90's pop song. "Must you?" he asked slowly, clearly annoyed.

"I'm afraid I must, dear Scaly-Pants." She replied, sticking out her tongue and left out of bed, singing loudly.

Laughing, she stepped into the shower, scolding hot and smiled as she felt any stress in her muscles melting away. She was so glad she had slept well, she'd need all her wits about her today. After washing her hair, rinsing and drying herself she stepped out and wrapped herself in a soft fluffy towel. Glancing at her reflection in the mirror, and contemplating what she was going to do that day, she realised it may well be in her best interest to look pretty. Well, damn hot actually.

As much as it pained her and went against al of her feminist views, she couldn't deny that she would have to manipulate at least two men in the coming hours and that's always a lot easier if they find you attractive. So, once dry with teeth brushed and sparkling clean, she stood infant of the full-length bedroom mirror wearing a set of pretty lilac lingerie, matching suspender belt and nude nylon stockings. First port of call was the hair. At present, it was a light dirty blonde and trailed well down her back in scraggly rat tail curls. Her hair had always been long and unkept and i has never given it much thought until now.

In this time period, fashionable, forward thinking women worthier hair short, in a bob or cropped at the bottom of the ear. Whilst, on the other hand, the majority of women, innocent, conservative, lady-like women, wore their hair long, rarely down, but in intricate up-dos.

Deciding that in order to have people think more of her than a diets young virgin from the country, whom could be easily manipulated, she needed to create and image that showed her to be a little more of a force to be reckoned with. She needed to cut her hair short.

She knew a spell and got to work transforming her lanky locks into a sophisticated cropped bob, and lightened the colour to a striking ivory colour blonde with a glamorous shine. Sleekeazy's ensures her new blunt cut hairstyle remained speak and straight.

The hair complimented her petite, slender features and as she hadn't had a chance to eat dinner, she was looking exceptionally trim. Although she would have liked to believe that it was due to her feeble attempt at going to the gym a few weeks prior. For makeup, she took inspiration from Marylin Monroe, adopting her signature sweeping eye but replacing the retro bright red lipstick for a more subtle pink.

Finally, she decided on the outfit; a light, almost transparent pink blouse which clung to her thin wrists but otherwise flowed loosely, which was perfect for the warm summer's day. The light blouse, with a silk lilac camisole top underneath, was paired with a high-waisted pencil skirt with a nude floral pattern. It clung to her slim frame and showed off what few curve she had.

"Well?" Aurora turned to Jerome. Nerves began to constrict her chest and seemed to rest on her shoulders like a feather bower made of lead. Her heart had sunk into a sea of the doubt once she finished getting ready. What if it wasn't enough? What if she wasn't enough?

"You look divine, Darling" Jerome reassured, slithering up her arm and wrapping himself around her wrist. "But you must eat something. I haven't traveled back this far in time for you to simply disappear." Aurora rolled her eyes and laughed. On another day she might have questioned why she allowed herself to be chastised by a snake, but on this occasion, she was so thankful for his company, she didn't mind.

The nineteen-year-old witch trapped two brown files from her suitcase and made her, with her companions wrapped tightly around her wrist, made her way downstairs in search of a quiet spot to get some breakfast and read up a little more about Borgin and Burkes.

Finding a small, isolated table in the corner, she sat down and call the attention of James, the nice young man who has checked her in yesterday who was now acting as the waiter for the breakfast service. He gave her a wink and a cheeky grin once he had taken her order of a cup of tea and a blueberry muffin. She took his flirting as a sign that she was pulling off her new look.

When James returned with her breakfast, Aurora was already engrossed in her reading and had spotted something that had excited her.

"2nd September 1949: Tripple Cursed Skeletal Hand - 20 Galleons, Enchanted Music Box- 75 Galleons 3 knuts, Slytherin Embellished Ring, 105 Galleons."

it was an inventory taken from the shop on this very date. Aurora re-read the last item 'Slytherin Embellished Ring" and scrambled to find the broacher she had brought which showed many historical artefacts which had passed through the hands of Borgin and Burke since they had first opened their infamous shop. It included pictures and a short printed paragraph about each artefact. There, on page seven was the Slytherin ring she had seen so many times before. The magical photograph showed the sparkling reflection of the diamonds moving in the light. The ring, when she had last seen it, was warn by Lucius Malfoy, one of The Dark Lords more bespoke Death Eaters.

Aurora had stayed at the Malfoy's mansion with Lord Voldemort when he had utilised it as the Death Eater's headquarters. She had made friends with the youngest Malfoy, Draco and so Lucius was always kind to her. On one, not so important night, whilst the greatest wizarding war in history waged outside the door. Lucius told Aurora about the ring, over a nightcap of fire whisky. He had told the young witch himself that his grandfather, had bought the ring as a graduation present for his son, (Lucius's father), Abraxes Malfoy, after he had finished Hogwarts. Abraxes, in turn, gave it to Lucius when he graduated. Aurora still remembered the pained look in Lucius's eyes when he came to the realisation that his own son, Draco, would not be receiving the ring for the same happy occasion any time soon.

Allowing her mind to wonder, Aurora asked herself whether it was more likely that Draco received the ring for a kind of sick 'congratulations you survived the war' present, or perhaps after the war he returned to Hogwarts. Perhaps he died, she hadn't attempted to look up the records of any of her old friends.

Forcing herself back to the task at hand, she focused on what this all meant. Lucius's Grandfather would be buy-in gate ring today. Aurora was willing to bet that he would probably pay double the amount the inventory read, it was such a precious heirloom in her own time, and a plan started to form in her mind.

Shoving the rest of the blueberry muffin into her mouth and slurped the remainder of her tea, she caught the eye of a disgusted James who she assumed thought her to be a refined and civilised woman up until that point.

She smiled at him as she ran back upstairs to grab her things and settle Jerome down. She was ready to go and get herself a job at Borgin and Burkes.


End file.
